Dirty Little Secret
by Ookami21Kage
Summary: Carlisle and Esme have a deep dark secret that turns around and bites them all these years later. A little look into their not so fairytale past. OC, OOC. R&R. I suck at summaries, sorry


Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or it's charactrs, but I do have claim on Nikita, Carlie, Mesha, Dominic and Demetri. (This is NOT the Demetri that belongs to Sarah. A totally different character)

_My name is Rachel Nikita Anastasia Romanov, and I am Rosaline._

_Nikita_

Esme POV

We all have our share of dirty little secrets, we all have our memories we'd much rather forget. Here is a detailed account of the one memory I wish I'd never created. The one memory that cost me the only friend I ever had. My name is Esme Cullen, but as you all know, I was not always Cullen…

The first time that I saw her I was taken aback by the sheer raw beauty that she possessed. Nikita, a Russian princess married to an English doctor. She was standing at the bar with her brother, Demetri. I knew that Russian women drank and smoked, but I had no idea they did it from such a young age. She was 17 then, I knew because I'd heard from the other, much jealous, women around. Yet I could not be jealous of her, she was so… different. Much more earthly than I had imagined a princess to be. I went up to her. I could not help myself, I had to talk to her.

We were best friends after that.

I suppose I should have paid more attention to the facts. It was 1690, the year of revolution. Being with her made me feel powerful. The pure love that she shared with her husband, Carlisle, was something I could not help but admire. I was 20, only three years younger than him, while he was eight years older than her. I would watch them, dancing, sometimes they would dance for hours. She would sing to him, she had a voice like a nightingale. I guess that's understandable, she was the granddaughter of Isabella Rossellini.

My affection soon turned south. I fell in love with Carlisle. At first I said nothing, to no one, but after a while I could not help it anymore. I had to talk to him, I had to tell him.

As I walked into the meeting hall he came in the other door. We came to a standstill, staring at each other, unsure, unsteady. Then he walked to me, put his hand in my neck, and kissed me, deeply, like he kissed her…

The year was 1962. My affair with Carlisle had been going strong for almost a year, and I was no longer plagued with guilt. She was still happy, and he still went home to her every night… No, I was no longer guilty, I was… jealous.

So I waited with her until he came home one night. He was surprised to see me there still. With my heart pounding I dropped the bomb.

"I can't do this anymore Carlisle, I'm sorry." I looked at her, then at him.

"I can't go through my life as your mistress. I am 22 years old and not yet married. This is ridiculous." I stated strongly. His face was a mask of shock and panic. I looked at Nikita, who sat there with a solemn look on her face, as if my words had not been heard.

"Darling. I meant to tell you. I did not intend for any of this to happen." He began to explain, ignoring me, and walking straight to her.

To my, and Carlisle's, utter surprise she snorted and stifled a laugh.

"Niki?" He asked confused.

She stood up. "You really think I did not know about you two?" She inquired smiling broadly. Her fading Russian accent only made her all the more strikingly beautiful.

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I knew about your affair for almost a year. You didn't honestly think I was that blind did you? Not that I mind of coarse, I mean, people tend to forget that I am Russian."

"What do you mean you don't mind?" I squeaked. How could she not mind?!

"Well I am Russian, like I said, and these things are not such rare occurrences in Russia Esme. Men are considered powerful and honorable if they have a wife and two mistresses. It is an honor in my eyes. An honor I was more than willing to bestow him and you any day. I only thought that maybe because you are English you would not see it that way, and apparently I am right." She explained. "And besides. He still comes home to me every night." She added.

My relief turned to jealous rage in an instant.

"You are quite right. I don't see it that way." I spat.

"Esme. Calm down." Carlisle insisted, putting his hand on my arm.

"No. This is it Carlisle. It's her or me. You have a month to decide." I declaired.

Nikita's mouth fell open in utter shock. Carlisle looked as if he was about to be sick. I didn't care. I wanted him so bad it hurt.

"Esme, you cannot possibly expect me to choose between you two…" He said, his voice trailing off.

"Well that is exactly what I expect of you." I said, not waiting for a reply I turned to leave.

All the time I had my eyes on Nikita. She was in shock, unable to say a word. She whispered something in Russian that made Carlisle wince. He could speak a little bit of it by now.

I saw him once a week after that, and I never laid eyes on Nikita until the day he was supposed to chose. She just stood there, without arguing, without saying anything. Her arms folded oddly over her bodice. Her black hair was loosely tied up, but parts of it hung loose, down to her waist. Her blue eyes sparkled with anticipation, as did mine. My heart was pounding and I could not sit still. I kept looking at her, then looking away. I wanted to say something to her, but I couldn't. It was as if my presence had gone unnoticed by her, as if she was fighting her own personal war in her mind.

He walked into the room. He bent down and kissed her, deeply. Like he had never kissed her before, and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. Once he broke the kiss I felt as if my heart would stop, the hope draining from me. But when I looked at her she had a mask of defeat and despair on her perfect face. And then I saw that in her hand she held his wedding ring.

He turned away from her and took me by the arm. I let him lead me out, away from what I had just done, if only I knew…

*current day*

Carlisle POV

It was the first time in almost 350 years that we went to that apartment. I didn't want to go back; it was where my honeymoon had been. In Venice.

For some reason I could not remind myself of her, of my beautiful, young Nikita. I never wanted to leave her, but I couldn't bear to leave Esme either. I do not quite understand why I chose Esme over Nikita, maybe because I felt as if Esme was softer than Nikita, more fragile. These days I felt… empty. As if a great and terrible thing was about to hit me and I did not know what.

I snuck through the halls of the old building. Esme at my side. I loved her, so much, and I forgave her a long time ago for making me chose. She was all I had left of my old life. The only memory I had left of her. I had seen myself grow old with Nikita so many times, but now I could not help but see her grow old alone. What I did to her was unthinkable, and I never stopped loving her, not even now.

Esme kissed my cheek and turned into a different corridor. I went to the bedroom and opened the door. There was a black leather cover diary lying on the bed, as if it had been there for centuries. I stepped into the room and sat down on the four poster bed. When my hand met the book I flinched as a memory flashed in front of eyes.

Nikita had one like this. I had watched her sit there writing for ages. I missed her eyes, I missed her hair. I missed her soft skin and the scent of sage in her hair.

I opened the diary, only to be met by her hand writing. Automatically I began to read.

_-Diary entry-_

19 February 1692

I never figured that I would be starting a new diary so damn soon, but alas. This is an entirely new chapter. A lonely one…

I was going to tell him today, about the baby, but now it seems almost pointless. Esme finally broke. She demanded he choose between me and her. Now I've known of this affair since April. I saw them in the side street, remember? I found it funny then. The mystery that they thought they had. I allowed it, of course. My brother seemed to like Carlisle more now that he was following Russian ways all the more, but I knew that this was no Russian matter of honor. Carlisle was in love with my best friend, and neither of them had said a word to me before today.

Naïve of me to think that they could live like this.

Anyway, I am not going to tell him about the baby just yet, I do not want it to influence his choice.

Sincerely,

Nikita

_-end of entry-_

My mind did not quite register the words that I was reading, but I found tears burning my eyes at the thought of it. Could she really have been pregnant, and not told me!?

I turned another page.

_-diary entry-_

20 March 1962

I would rather not account the whole sad story.

He placed the ring in my hand, kissed me as if there was no tomorrow, and left.

I did not cry, I could not cry. It hurt too much, in more ways than one.

That night I stood naked in front of the mirror examining the small, yet audible bump. Carlisle's child was inside me, and in my Russian mind Carlisle was deep inside Esme by now. Silent tears streamed down my face, yet I made no sound. How was I ever going to go through this alone? After I had dried my soundless tears I debated weather or not to put something on again. What was the point now? I wasn't hiding a bump from anyone anymore. So I crawled into bed, naked. Wondering to myself how it could be that a doctor had not noticed that his wife was three months pregnant…

_-end of entry-_

My tears flowed freely now. I sobbed. My precious, darling Nikita was pregnant… And I left her… I left her…

I read on, once I had gained the courage. She went on to explain nothing but fear, sorrow, and solitude. Four months worth of tears.

-_diary entry-_

13 July 1692

The child stirred me awake again. I felt sick, tired, and lost. Seven months they told me. Congratulations! You are seven months pregnant! The baby is healthy. When is your husband returning? He must be so proud…

Oh no my dear. He's not coming back. He left with his mistress. Oh and I never told him I was pregnant.

But why? Why hadn't I told him?

Because I didn't want him to stay just for the sake of the child, or was it that I was afraid he already knew about the child, and still did not care?

Oh God. How was I ever going to do this alone.

My brother is begging me to come back to Russia, but I can't. There are too many people there who'd want to know. Too many questions I had no answers to. No I would raise this child in England, alone.

Maybe I'll tell them he died. No. Maybe I'll tell them the truth.

Maybe… maybe.

I hate being alone. I hate being fragile.

The baby is slowly taking its toll on me. I think I'm becoming ill. How would I know? I've only seen a doctor once. I don't care for what they have to say. They talk about birth, and pre natal care. Birth. Ha! Like I can even think about that at this stage.

I can't have this baby alone! Demetri keeps insisting. He says that I should at least find a midwife somewhere to help me. I don't care for them. I don't care for help. What can they help with anyway? Instinct is far more reliable than people.

Sincerely,

Nikita

_-end of entry-_

I sobbed, unable to turn the page. Afraid to. There were two pages left. What if it cuts off, and I never know what happened to her? To my wife, and my unborn child. I left them… Oh God please forgive me… I left them…

_-diary entry-_

15 September 1962

People are liars.

Everyone lies, especially doctors.

I followed my damned brother's advice and got a midwife. She lied too. She said ten hours at the most…

Funny. Even after the first ten hours had passed I still wished he was there with me. Twenty eight hours it took. I lost another part of me in that pain. What did I have to go through that for? For what? A baby? I never wanted children. He was the one who wanted a child. Now I am here, tired, in pain, and alone.

My head isn't clear yet. I'm still dizzy and shaking. I should be asleep. As if anyone can sleep after that. It hurts to move, it hurts to breath. I want to cry so bad. I want Carlisle here with me, but he's not. He left with her. Six months ago. Why? What did she have that I didn't have? Didn't he love me? Were all his declarations of love just one big lie?

I'm sick, the doctor said just now. Great. That too.

What did he call it? Eclampsia or some such nonsense. What does that even mean? He says I don't have much time. My liver and my kidneys will fail. Fail at what? Motherhood? Good lord it hurts. I almost bled to death too. No wonder I'm dizzy.

Now he wants to know how he can contact my husband. Someone has to watch the baby. Oh yes, the baby.

A girl. A beautiful, perfect, tiny baby girl. Big green eyes staring up at me, a tuff of black hair.

You little bitch, you and you your father went and killed me. Perfect. But God I love her so much.

Carlie, since it's up to me.

How long will it take for me to die I wonder. What will become of her? Mesha will take her. Yes. My sister loves babies. She will take good care of her.

It hurts… so much. He left me… why did he leave me?

Does he hate me so much? Does he hate me as much as I love him?

Will I die alone?

I don't want to die. I'm 19. Why should I die? I have a daughter. I have something to live for again!?

I can't cry. It hurts too much… Please!

I can't cry… I can't cry… It hurts too much

I can't hurt anymore…

Oh God please! Make it stop

_-end of entry-_

I dropped the book on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. There was nothing left for me now…

What had I done?

Esme POV

I found him in the bedroom, curled up in a ball, crying uncontrollably. I had never seen him like this…

I tried in vein to get something out of him, but he didn't talk to me. All he said was "How could you! Oh God what have I done…"

I picked up the book on the floor and left. Frustrated and scared I sat down in the guest room and began to read…

_A/N. Hope you liked it._

_Sequel will be finished soon. _

_PS. MY twilight vampires sleep and they have tears. Sorry to all you OCD's out there, the point of Fanfic is to use the characters or the story line to your own advantage, not necessarily to try and copy the original writers work thank you very much. _


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